


Written By The Victor

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tactically, it was a mistake to create a genius of a weapon and then try to take away the one thing that kept him sane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written By The Victor

**Author's Note:**

> Wikipedia for names stuff. [ Ku](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/K%C5%AB)

The soft ticking had been increasing in tempo for almost two weeks before an extra harsh chime was emitted. After that, the room was hidden in silence. No one was around to compare the noise to an old fashioned egg timer, no one to realize the real countdown began in that silence, as ancient machinery whirred to life. The world outside was as dark as it got, being in the city of London, when the machine opened.

A gasping breath and the occupant shoved out of the capsule, slipping gracelessly to the floor. In the semi-darkness, the body was only shadow, drawn to a small, flashing light that only came on when the countdown was over. There is one word written on top of that light, and a trembling, half-frozen hand slapped at the recognized word; Khan. The play button engaged, a screen came on and was filled with the head and shoulders of a man. 

“Greetings. If you are hearing this message it means my plan has failed. I do not know what will become of my family if I fail, but that is why I have isolated you. Your ability to see things differently than I has been of great value to us before, but now it may be our only chance.” 

A heavy breath from the body on the floor was the only response. 

“We have slept for 300 years, and they have proliferated in that time. Instead of facing a planet of lesser beings, we now face a galaxy. The odds are not in our favor. Even as their numbers and resources have grown, so too has their greed and petty mindedness. Admiral Marcus uses the lives of our sleeping family to control me and you know I cannot abide that. Historically, I am a despotic madman after all.” 

The body on the floor gave an inarticulate noise of protest, and the man on camera almost smiled, as if he heard the noise. 

“You of all my family will most appreciate that history is written by the victors. We were not experiments bred in a laboratory and trained to kill, until we overthrew our masters in self-defense. Apparently, all the problems on Earth at that time were our fault. If my plan fails so spectacularly that you are the only one left alive, I know you will teach them a history lesson not to be forgotten.” 

Emotions twitched across the face in the recorded image, but they were ruthlessly suppressed. 

“I know how hard it can be coming out of cryosleep, so this message can be played repeatedly. The other messages in this London flat are more of our usual methods of communication, available only for one viewing.” There was a pause, and it is clear the man does not want to stop talking. Something of fear shows in his eyes, but also resolve for the course he must take. “By the deeds.” 

A small nod and the screen went dark. The body on the floor had regained enough equilibrium to finish the quote, in a voice laden with emotion. “By the deeds, know a person.” 

The rest of the night is spent in grief and silence. 

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ S<3J ˥(?)ל

Golden afternoon sunshine filters in the windows when another cryopod is opened. This man does not fight his way out, not just yet. He knows conditions are different than the first time he was put into the cryopod, and waits to find out if things have changed since the second time he was put to sleep. Put to sleep, like an unwanted, mongrel dog. 

Eyes closed, he listens while he waits to thaw. There is the sound of a technologically advanced city, but not much else. No doctors discussing his vitals and no warmongers planning on how to use him. Daring to open his eyes, Khan takes in the ceiling. It is a familiar ceiling, one he stared at while thinking before this last nap. Carefully, quietly, he sits up and climbs out of the cryopod. He manages with far more grace than is appropriate, and quickly assesses the situation. 

He is, as he suspected, in the small London flat he’d rented while working for Admiral Marcus. Getting to live outside of Area 31 had been a struggle, but the fact that it allowed his backup plan to work makes it worthwhile. His backup plan, in fact, is sitting in a chair, asleep. There are many ways to wake a sleeping person, but only a few acceptable ways to wake a sleeping warrior. 

“Attention!” Khan commanded and his soldier was up and at attention before he finished speaking. 

“Sir!” His voice is strong and professional, his face a soldier’s mask. 

This soldier is a physical temptation for Khan, but there are more important things to address. “The family?” 

“Safe, sir.” 

“All of them?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Report.” 

“Sir. Upon awakening from cryosleep I set out to learn this world. After a time, I was able to infiltrate Area 31 as a doctor. I smuggled the family out and integrated them into this society. You are the last to awaken, sir.” 

“How did you manage this?” 

“I attended medical school, sir. I learned about modern diseases that do not have a cure and how to find the people who suffered from them. By careful selection of targets that would not be missed, I exchanged them for our family in the cryotubes without being noticed.” 

“Why is the family not here?” 

“They took over the lives of their replacements, sir. I can contact them at a moment’s notice, if you so order.” 

“Why should I not so order?” 

“As you stated, our numbers are insufficient to fight off the galaxy at this time, sir.” 

“Indeed, Doctor Ku.” Khan put a special emphasis on the doctor part; though he is secretly please his companion has at last earned the title that fit him so well. 

“Watson, sir. Doctor John Watson.” 

“An interesting choice.” 

“A purposeful on, as the flat was rented to a John Harrison, and John is a common enough name. Watson is also a common surname in this area of the world, sir.” 

“I believe it suits you, more than Ku-ka-ili-moku God of War and Seizer of Land, at any rate.” 

“I am pleased by your approval, sir.” 

“I approve the name, but need convincing on the rest of it. Instead of waking me first thing, as you knew I would prefer, you went to school and became one of them. Instead of awakening everyone and starting a war, you talked sick people into sleeping until their diseases could be cured. At long last, you wake me and tell me you have done what generations of inferior beings have not; divided my family.” 

“Yes, sir.” Ever the soldier, the new doctor waits for his commander with an emotionless face but he cannot keep his eyes from blazing with determination and a sense of rightness. “You chose me for backup because I would do things differently than you, and I would do the same again, sir.” 

“I do not know whether to punish or reward you for such creative thinking.” 

John can control his face enough to keep it emotionless, but he can’t stop what his eyes show or the way his voice deepens for his reply. “I have confidence that you could find a way to do both at the same time, sir.” 

“That I could.” Khan offered. He waited a long moment before snapping out his orders. “Bedroom, clothes off.” 

John is grinning as he runs to comply, pulling his shirt off as he goes. The bedroom looks as Khan left it, though it is tidier. Proudly on display on the nightstand is a large bottle of lube and proudly on display beside it is a naked and erect John, standing at attention. Khan lets him stand there as he slowly pulls of his clothes and folds them neatly. 

“Three years,” Khan tells him. “Three long years I was stuck on this planet without you, fighting for your safety.” 

“Seven, sir, seven years I sacrificed for my subtle plan.” 

“Far too long; I don’t know where to begin and doubt I shall last long.” 

“With permission, sir, I figured it would be the same for me, so I selected what I wanted most.” 

“Permission granted, John.” 

The mask falls, and no longer is it only John’s eyes that look at Khan with admiration; his face it alight with adoration. A quick move, and John’s back is on the bed. With a pillow under his hips, John bends his knees and spreads his legs. A metal base plate circles his anus, and it didn’t take a Khan level genius to figure out what it was for. 

Sliding between John’s raised legs, Khan secured the base of the buttplug and began to twist it, sliding it partway out and back in again. It was unnecessary, as John had gone to a great deal of effort to open himself, but it was fun. Khan hadn’t had fun in a long while, and neither had John if his copious amounts of precum were any indication. 

“Please, Khan, my conqueror, please take me.” John blubbered eventually, eyes locked on the beloved face above him. 

That was enough to move Khan to remove the buttplug. John gave an enticing gasp as the widest part came out and an endearing moan as he waited to be filled again. He’d used plenty of lube to prepare himself, so Khan only gave himself a few strokes of lube coated hands before sliding in. Balls deep, he paused to get used to the heat and tightness, least he move wrong and finish off embarrassingly quickly. He was superhuman, superior, but this base act made him feel special for more than his genes. 

Finally, he began to move, watching John’s face as he did. John was biting his lower lip to keep his sounds in, a skill he had picked up when they hid their togetherness from the watchful eyes of their creators. 

“Let me hear you.” The words were commanding, but a fair bit of asking was clear in the tone. 

It looked to be an effort, but John opened his mouth. He still wasn’t loud, but it was enough to spur them both on. Khan let his full strength come out to play, as John had been proven strong enough to take it. It wasn’t long, yet long overdue, before John clenched around him. Coming with a guttural moan, John pulled Khan into bliss with him. 

The orgasm was intense for many reasons, not the least of which was the first feeling of safety in a long time. Khan held back his thinking process as long as he could, enjoying the moment. He also enjoyed softening inside John, who clung to him still. The curse of his great intellect was that Khan couldn’t enjoy things as long as even the similarly gifted members of his family. Similarly intelligent, but his was clearly the superior intellect. 

Pulling out, Khan settled to the side, so he was still mostly on John. When John stirred beside him, coming back to awareness, Khan started up the conversation from where he had left off in his head. 

“What were your plans for the future, John?” 

“Well, if you decide to, I can recall the family and we can start the war again. Otherwise, we can set ourselves up as watchers of society. Use our intellect to direct things behind the scenes, so things get better and nobody gets killed unless necessary.” 

“I’ve always been intrigued by the way you forget the sir in your post-coitus bliss.” 

“My apologies, sir.” 

“No apologies, I was trying to determine exactly how much sex would be required to teach you to use my name.” 

John giggled in his arms and Khan smiled into John’s chest; he’d missed that sound. 

John sobered up, though, to finish his report. “Sir, time has passed so people don’t remember your face clearly, but they know the name. They know that Khan is a name and title for a ruler or conqueror and they know you went as John Harrison. For your own safety, I have prepared to create you a new identity as well, once you choose a name.” 

“If I plan on making this world my home, and not simply conquering it.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Maybe home should be my new surname, maybe I should become a doctor too. How about Dr. House?” 

John giggled again, and Khan grinned at the sound, again. “If you’re going to name yourself after objects, how about a small German boat?” 

“Clearly, no one would associate Khan the Conqueror with Mr. Kahn of Germany.” John had always loved word play and puns, so Khan wasn’t surprised by the word play of the suggestion. Khan could play word games as well. 

“They’re not that clever, sir.” John said. 

“Holmes is common enough, or was common in Great Britain at one time. Mr. Holmes would help me blend in.” 

“Yes, and your children could blend in with a name that matches their location.” 

“Only you would worry about if my nonexistent children would get mocked. It’s because you were named after a Hawaiian god yet look like a Caucasian dipped in honey.” 

“Studied psychology while in cryosleep, did you?” 

“No, I dreamed of you.” The simple truth ignored that cryosleepers dreamed in disconnected, half remembered lumps. All of Khan’s half dreams had involved Ku in one way or other. Now, it also got John grabbing his head and pulling him in for a thorough kiss. A distracting, thorough kiss, that Khan had to pull away from to ask a question. “These children you mentioned, they are hypothetical, right John?” 

“More of a theory, but yes. The technology I learned about in medical school is very advanced but I’ve already worked out new ways to use it. With a few adjustments, I could mix the genes of two males to produce a child. The women of our family all agreed to incubate the offspring, even if they were not genetically involved. Biologists know it as Kin Selection, and they all agree you are the kin we need to select for. I collected sperm samples from the men and have them stored in the basement flat of this building.” 

“Did you collect yours while you opened yourself for me today?” Khan asked, enjoying his mental picture of John masturbating while readying himself for his conqueror. 

“No, sir.” 

Khan pulled himself out of his fantasy at the formal tone and words. He doesn’t let himself react physically as he tries to find a logical way out of a very illogical self-esteem problem. Few of the family were exactly what their creators expected, but Ku was always the runt of the litter. With the Polynesian genes in his mix, he should have been darker. There was no genetic predisposition to blond hair, yet his platinum blond had only faded as he aged. Shorter than expected, he could even be called stocky. The rest of the family towered above him and he had taken two steps for every one of theirs, but he had kept up. 

In some cases he passed his family, but their creators were too dull and common to notice. They saw Ku as stupid because he studied longer, never noticing he studied subjects that weren’t required or expected. He learned to fix the injuries he couldn’t avoid, and fix the rest of the family as well. Ku was expendable so they sent him to scout out the enemy and made him walk point. Khan had seen him hide in plain sight and made him his head spy. Much like their creators, Ku who was now John, believed he was inferior. 

Nobody alive but Khan knew what had forced his hand and made him lead his family in a revolt against those dull creators, and he would go to his grave to make sure John never found out. Khan had several listening posts throughout the compound they were raised in, and it was in one such post that he heard their plans for a new batch. They wanted the first round of children to be from Khan but then had to slowly go through the rest of the family. 

Ku-ka-ili-moku had been next alphabetically, and Anderson had suggested cutting of his balls instead of letting him breed, or culling the herd. Tactically, it was a mistake to create a genius of a weapon in Khan and then try to take away the one thing that kept him sane. Anderson was the first casualty of the rebellion, but not the last. If John found out, he would take responsibility for all that had happened since then, when it was simply the tipping point, the last straw that Khan would allow. 

Khan could command John to mix their spermatozoon, but John would find a logical excuse for it, such as not wanting to waste the good genes until the technology was proven. When Khan had pointed out that in Hawaiian mythology Ku-ka-ili-moku brought substance to the universe, John had played it off as a joke on his solid build. Rolling up and onto his knees, Khan straddled John and bent down to kiss him. John responded eagerly and Khan had to pull back before he too got eager. 

“Sherlock.” 

“Sir?” 

“Sherlock Holmes will be my name.” 

“Not to question you, sir, but Sherlock is an unusual name and may attract attention.” 

“John, I attract attention everywhere I go.” 

“True, sir.” John’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. It was his tell that he had something on his mind. 

“Question, soldier?” 

“Begging your pardon, sir, but what does Sherlock mean?” 

Khan smiled, knowing John’s interest in words and languages would force the man to ask. “It means fair haired. I can see the question in your eyes. Why would a dark haired man who grows a red beard call himself fair haired?” 

“The beard is not the only thing red, or as the locals say, ginger.” 

“You forgot your formalities; you must be thinking with your cock again.” 

“Or thinking of yours, sir.” 

“Sherlock.” 

“Of course, Sherlock. I am thinking of your cock.” 

“I don’t think you understand John. These people sometimes switch last names when they marry, but we are different than them. I was John Harrison and you are fair haired. You took my first name, so now I take yours. This is how we will be married to each other, John.” 

John looked hopeful, even if he had forgotten how to breathe. He pushed the emotions away and stretched, trying to break the hold on his hands and hips even though he knows he cannot. “Sir, the cryosleep must be affecting you.” 

“You, John, you affect and effect me. I will try to make a home here but only with you. My fair haired Doctor John Watson, you are the only one I love.” Khan was comfortable on top of John, so he settled in to wait until his message sunk in. He watched as John struggled with the idea that his Khan could truly desire him over the rest of their family. 

“Hamish.” 

Even though he’d seen the answer was on its way, the one word confused the newly named Sherlock. “What?” 

“Hamish is my middle name, of Scottish extraction, if you were looking for baby names. 

Sherlock laughed. More than the comment warranted, yes, but it was the first real laugh in almost three hundred years. And if his eidetic memory served, John had been the cause of that laugh as well. Leaning forward again, Sherlock kissed John and showed him that the rest of him had recovered from cryosleep and was ready for another round. 

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ S<3J ˥(?)ל


End file.
